


Like Looking Through a Clouded Glass

by finkpishnets



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-27
Updated: 2010-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 12:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Hodgins and Sweets bond over hot cocoa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Looking Through a Clouded Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Coda to 5x12 ‘The Proof in the Pudding’ and AU from there. Written for the schmoop_bingo prompt ‘hot cocoa’.

**i.**

It’s too much for one day – an actual honest to God conspiracy _and_ the whole pregnancy thing – and he can still feel Angela’s hand on his arm, thanking him and rejecting him in the same look. He’s thrumming with energy and too many thoughts and he can’t think of a single thing to do with himself that doesn’t involve getting spectacularly drunk, so he calls Sweets.

“This is me making an appointment,” he says when Sweets picks up. “I’m on my way to your office now.”

“I’m not actually there,” Sweets tells him, and Hodgins can hear the slur of tiredness in his voice and wonders whether he was sleeping.

“Okay, then I’m coming to yours,” Hodgins says, and waits until Sweets rattles off the address with a sigh before changing course.

Sweets opens the door to his apartment wearing sweats and a thinning t-shirt, and it’s the first time Hodgins has seen him anything other than completely put together. Despite that, he somehow looks older, less like a kid playing dress up, and it makes Hodgins pause as he steps inside.

“What did you want to talk about?” Sweets says, moving into the open kitchen and pouring two cups of what he’s pretty sure is hot cocoa into already waiting mugs. Hodgins wonders if maybe he’s making sure this all goes as quickly as possible, and some irrational part of him wants to drag it out, kick his shoes under the table and fall onto the couch for the rest of the night until Sweets has to be something other than calm and understanding in order to get rid of him.

“Don’t you have any coffee?” Hodgins asks, and his attempt at being deliberately irritating comes through in his voice.

“After the day we’ve had coffee would be more of a hindrance than a help,” Sweets says, and his composure just frustrates Hodgins more.

“But what if I _want_ coffee?”

Sweets rolls his eyes, offers him a look Hodgins swears he wouldn’t dare give were he more awake, and it throws Hodgins enough that he takes the mug and walks over to the coach without saying anything else.

“So, it wasn’t really JFK,” Hodgins says eventually, taking a scolding gulp and relishing in the feel of chocolate burning its way down his throat.

“Hmm,” Sweets says, and there’s a tilt to his mouth that suggests he knows something Hodgins doesn’t as he sips carefully at his own drink.

Hodgins pauses, closes his eyes tightly and says the next part before he can think of the thousand reasons why he shouldn’t.

“Angela thought she was pregnant with Wendell’s kid. I offered to be the dad.”

Sweets doesn’t say anything for a moment, lost in thought, and Hodgins stares at a small hole near the shoulder of his t-shirt where the material’s thinning, can just about see the rise and fall of his collarbone between the fabric.

“But she’s not?” Sweets says finally, and it’s not really a question but Hodgins answers it anyway.

“No.”

“How does that make you feel?” Sweets asks, and it’s so cliché, so practiced, that Hodgins has to bite back a desperate laugh.

“I don’t know,” he says instead. “Sad, angry, relieved…”

“You’re not ready to be a father?”

“It’s not that,” Hodgins says, shaking his head. “I don’t think anyone’s ever ready to be a father. It’s more that I don’t know where things stand between Angela and I; so much has _happened_ , and she’s with Wendell anyway, and, just…”

“You think that you may have ended up hurt again,” Sweets says, and this time it’s really not a question. Hodgins nods.

“Wendell’s a good guy,” he says.

“He is,” Sweets agrees. “He’s your friend and your colleague but he’s also dating the woman you’re in love with, the one you almost married, so you’re conflicted.”

“Yes and no,” Hodgins says with a sigh. “I think…I think maybe Ange and I _could_ be together right now. There have been opportunities, times when one of us could have said something and everything would have gone back to the way it used to be. Only we didn’t, _I_ didn’t, and that has to mean something.”

“Maybe it means you’re scared your relationship will always come down to timing.”

“Yeah, but doesn’t every relationship? Look at Booth and Brennan. That relationship is all about timing.”

“As in ‘as much of a slow burn as possible’?” Sweets says, grinning, and Hodgins can’t help but return it, just a little.

“Exactly. So, in your professional opinion, what do I need?”

Sweets shrugs and the hole in his shirt rises and falls until Hodgins can just barely see what might be a tiny cluster of freckles underneath. He shakes his head.

“I’ve been awake too long to give you a professional opinion right now,” Sweets says, and Hodgins feels guilty again for waking him up. “If you want that you can always make an _actual_ appointment. But as a friend? As a friend I think you’re going to be alright.”

“Yeah?” Hodgins says, and he doesn’t believe it, not really, but Sweets thinks they’re friends and maybe they are, and that’s a surprising thing to realize.

“Yes,” Sweets says. “Now drink your cocoa. Some of us need to sleep.”

Hodgins does as he’s told.

 

 **ii.**

It’s been a long day and all Hodgins wants right now is some fresh air, even if the wind is biting and he has little more than a thin jacket to protect him against it. He’s tired but he’s felt worse, much worse, and he thinks he can probably spend a few more hours going through samples before he has to go home.

Home. It’s too big and too empty and he thinks maybe he used to be okay with that, only that was before Zack and before Angela and now it just reminds him of the things that have slipped through his fingers.

Angela and Wendell have broken up, no doubt softly and sweetly with complete mutual understanding and no heated words, and he won’t deny that he’s a little pleased, but Wendell’s still his friend and Angela’s still Angela so he can’t let it go too far.

“Hey,” Sweets says, sitting on the bench next to him and handing him a hot flask. “It’s cocoa I’m afraid; the coffee seems to have turned to sludge.”

“Damn,” Hodgins says, nodding his head in thanks, “I’m going to need a caffeine fix soon.”

“Don’t worry, Booth’s around so I’m pretty sure a new pot will be on in no time.”

“Thank God for FBI dependency.”

“What are your plans for the weekend?” Sweets asks when they’ve been sitting quietly for a while, and Hodgins shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Might try and catch a movie or something.”

“There’s an Allan Ginsberg exhibition at the National Gallery, his Beat portraits, if you fancied it?” Sweets says, and if Hodgins didn’t know better, he’d think Sweets sounded a little nervous. It must be strange, he supposes, to try and take friendships to the stage where you hang out without purpose or other colleagues. It’s been a while since he’s had to do it, too.

“Yeah? That sounds good,” he says, and Sweets smiles, relieved, and Hodgins nudges his shoulder reassuringly.

“Cool,” Sweets says. “So I’ll see you tomorrow? Around twelve?”

“Great.”

Sweets stands up, straightens his jacket with one hand while trying not to spill his drink with the other, and offers Hodgins one last awkward grin before heading back inside.

Hodgins has the feeling he’s just missed something.

 

 **iii.**

It’s not until Angela says something, kindly and carefully, that Hodgins realizes he’s dating Sweets.

“He’s crazy about you,” she says, her hand on his arm comfortingly. “You should have seen his face when he saw you flirting with the receptionist.”

“But,” Hodgins says. “What?”

“Honey, you’ve been dating him for months. How did you not know?”

“I just thought we were friends,” he says, and Angela sighs.

“Friends who spend the night at each other’s places and hang out twenty-four seven?”

“Yes.”

“Jack, he showed you around the town he grew up in. He took you to where his parents are buried! Think about it.”

He does.

And, the thing is, she’s right. He and Sweets _do_ spend all their time together; they go to movies and dinner and museums, and sometimes they just hang out, playing CoD until the early hours of the morning and falling asleep on the couch surrounded by empty pizza boxes.

They’d fallen into it so easily that Hodgins hadn’t even noticed that maybe it was something else, something more, and, _seriously_ , how could he be so obtuse?

“Are you freaking out?” Angela says sympathetically but also like she might hurt him if his answer’s the wrong one.

“No,” he says, and it’s the truth. He thinks maybe he should be, but however hard he tries he can’t make himself doubt anything about the last few months, is only aware of the ache in his chest that he thinks may have been there for a while, ignored until pointed out.

Angela smiles.

“Go,” she says, nodding to the door. “I’ll tell Cam and Brennan you’re not feeling great.”

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, and leans forward, placing a quick kiss on her cheek that marks the beginning of something new between them. He thinks the look she gives him means she’s on the same page.

He makes a stop on his way to Sweets’ apartment, tries to remember how this all started and isn’t really surprised when he can’t. He’s nervous as he knocks, wants to roll his eyes at himself, but Sweets opens the door before he can think too hard about just what he’s doing.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Sweets echoes, and he’s glaring a little, his mouth pulled down in a pout, and wow, how had Hodgins not noticed how that made his heart speed up?

“I’m sorry I flirted with the receptionist,” Hodgins blurts out, “only I didn’t know we were dating.”

He’s worried for a moment that Sweets is going to slam the door in his face.

“How did you _not know_?” Sweets says, crossing his arms, and Hodgins can’t help but notice the way his shirt pulls tightly across his chest at the movement.

“I just didn’t. I mean we’ve never even _kissed!_ ”

“I thought we were just taking it slowly!” Sweets tells him, voice rising, and Hodgins is suddenly aware that they’re standing in the hallway.

“Look, can I come in?” he says with a heavy sigh. “I come bearing cocoa.”

“Why not coffee?” Sweets says, eyebrow raised, and Hodgins can’t help his small smile.

“Because I’m not completely blind. You don’t like coffee, not really, but you don’t want people to know incase it just makes them see you as more of a kid. Hot cocoa on the other hand…” He holds out the Starbucks cup, waves it hopefully, and is stupidly relieved when Sweets takes it.

Inside Hodgins drops onto the couch, the right side because Sweets prefers the left where he can put his drinks on the shelf and his Marvel comic’s coasters, and waits.

“I feel like such an idiot,” Sweets says, dropping his head into his hands.

“What? No! _I’m_ the idiot,” Hodgins tells him, but Sweets just shakes his head.

“I should have known it was all just in my own head. I mean, like _you_ would actually like _me_. I’m just a kid, right?”

Hodgins hates this, hates knowing that he’s the reason Sweets looks so upset, so defeated, and it’s not a new emotion even though it kind of is.

“But I _do_ like you,” he says, and it’s true. He may not have realized it until now but it’s really, honestly true.

Sweets looks up, watches him carefully, and Hodgins knows he can see right through him.

“Oh,” Sweets says eventually, a blush rising up his neck and over his cheeks when he realizes that Hodgins isn’t lying, and Hodgins wants to touch him so damn much.

It’s kind of terrifying that he can.

Sweets leans forward first, awkwardly, but he doesn’t close the gap, his bravery only going so far, and Hodgins doesn’t think twice before doing it for him.

It’s not the most graceful of kisses – their noses bump and Hodgins catches more of Sweets’ cheek than his mouth on the first try – but it makes his skin thrum, makes his brain white out for a moment, and he can’t believe he could have been doing this for months if he’d only noticed earlier.

It’s only when he leans back to breathe that he realizes Sweets is shaking beneath his hands, and remembers that Sweets has been waiting for this a lot longer than he has.

“Come on,” he says with a soft smile. “I’m going to kick your ass at CoD and then we’re going to order Chinese and watch a movie.”

Sweets blinks, confused, and then frowns, but Hodgins cuts him off.

“Now,” he says, “drink your cocoa before it gets cold.”

Sweets looks at him for a few seconds, and he must have caught on to the way Hodgins is trying to keep everything calm and relaxed because he grins, big and bright and wonderful, and leans heavily into Hodgins’ side as he picks up his drink.

“Yes dear.”


End file.
